A Sequence of Pearls
by Corisanna
Summary: Tōshirō is overworked to the point of exhaustion. Ichigo is determined to make sure he relaxes. Tea, a home-cooked meal, affectionate snark, and skilful kissing are his primary tools. IchiHitsu domestic fluff


A/N: I don't even know where this came from. (._.);; But it got stuck in my head and I figured I'd better get it out so I can finish the next chapter of _Icebergs and Waterlines_. Here, have some domestic IchiHitsu fluff with some foreplay. It takes place in some vague continuity a couple hundred years down the line in which the Kurosaki family is in Soul Society as a branch of the Shiba clan, the Quincy thing didn't happen but Kyōraku is Sōtaichō because reasons, Ichigo became Captain of the Eighth, and he and an older Tōshirō have been married for some time.

§×§×§

§×§×§

§×§×§

§×§×§ **A SEQUENCE OF PEARLS** §×§×§

"I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string."

― L.M. Montgomery, _Anne of Avonlea_

It was already full dark when Tōshirō wearily approached his home. A stress headache caught his skull in a vise. A quiet ringing in his ears warned him it was on the verge of escalating into a migraine. He was hungry and tired and ready to just shut his brain down for a few days, work be damned. The sight of his front door was a relief. The thought of his bed was divine.

The front door felt heavy as he slid it open and stepped in. He shut it and tiredly leaned against the wall to remove his shoes. He dropped them and remained leaning on the wall with his eyes closed. He noticed that something smelled heavenly. His stomach agreed. He didn't really feel like moving to investigate, though. For the moment, he was content simply with being in the calm of his home.

Footsteps thudded in the hallway. "Hey, Tōshirō. Finally clawed your way out of the fourth circle of Hell?" Ichigo's voice was rife with wry sympathy.

Tōshirō opened his eyes and squinted blearily at his husband. "Ugh." He grimaced. "Why must greed be so pervasive among the nobles? And why must they be so damn sneaky about it? They're like weeds- reconnaissance digs up one and follows the runners to another set of roots. It's ridiculous." He allowed his head to loll against the wall.

Ichigo frowned and approached Tōshirō. "What, you found even more? How deep does this rabbit hole go?"

"I don't know. Kyōraku, Soifon, Kuchiki, and I were planning more reconnaissance based on that already acquired. We're expanding the investigation to the Rukongai. This ring of illicit activities seems to be far more extensive than we initially thought. Tracking it all without tipping them off has been bothersome. And since they're mostly nobles, there are even stricter legal standards we have to adhere to. Taking them all down will be a nightmare." He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his aching eyes. "God, I hate dealing with politics sometimes. Nothing is ever straightforward. I don't even want to think about it anymore."

"So don't," Ichigo said decisively. He lightly gripped Tōshirō's shoulder and squeezed encouragingly. "You've done enough. Leave it at the door. I figured you'd had a rough day of it so I made that thing you liked last time we went to the main house. I had Yuzu show me how to make it. Go ditch that uniform and get comfortable. How about we eat dinner and be lazy all night?"

Still leaning on the wall, Tōshirō smiled fondly at his husband. "Yeah, that sounds great." He reached up to Ichigo's head and gently guided him down for a brief kiss.

Ichigo rested his forehead against Tōshirō's and smirked. "Oh, not even going to give me a token objection? You _must_ be worn out."

Tōshirō scoffed lightly. "I'm not going to waste my energy fighting off your mother hen complex."

Ichigo grinned. "How many times do I have to tell you? It's not a mother hen complex, it's protectiveness."

Tōshirō's lips twitched. "How many times do I have to tell you? They're the same thing."

Ichigo snorted and pecked his husband on the cheek. "Humor my poor complex then and go get changed so I can get some food into you. You look like you're going to pass out." He tugged Tōshirō forward and lightly shoved him down the hall. "Scoot."

Tōshirō smirked at Ichigo over his shoulder and padded down the halls to their bedroom. He didn't bother shutting the door behind him. He chose not to turn on the light and stood in the dark for a moment to let his eyes adjust. His night vision was quite good and the lack of light felt lovely on his strained eyes. He approached his side of the bed and untied his sash, then placed Hyōrinmaru in the vertical stand nearby. He glanced across the room to Zangetsu's mirrored position on Ichigo's side of the bed and briefly smiled. Somehow, the sight of both their blades at rest across from each other always soothed him. He padded over to their walk-in closet- really, marrying a noble did have its perks- and removed his haori and hung it on a clothes rack. He felt lighter immediately. He continued to disrobe lazily. He slipped into his favorite summer-weight sleeping yukata and meandered toward the kitchen, barefoot in the mild night air.

While their house did have an actual dining room, it only saw use when they hosted guests. When it was just the two of them, they ate in the more intimate setting of a little table for two just off the kitchen in an airy breakfast nook with large picture windows that looked out onto their garden and koi pond. Tōshirō found it bathed in dim light, a teapot and cup emitting fragrant steam next to two small pills. He stood and stared at the tableau for a moment, amused and touched. He smiled ruefully; his husband could usually tell when he had a pounding headache and knew exactly which tea he drank to relax. He tiredly sat in his chair with far less grace than usual. He poured some tea and savored it for a moment before swallowing the painkillers dry. He sipped more tea and set the cup on the table, then closed his eyes and propped his chin up on his elbows over it to enjoy the steam and listen to Ichigo shuffling about and muttering the occasional curse in the kitchen. He heaved a great sigh. He was relaxing already.

He drifted off for a bit. He refocused when Ichigo gently touched his shoulder. He blinked up at his husband and shook himself. Ichigo grinned and set a large bowl before him. The tall man ran long fingers through Tōshirō's hair. "Damn, Shiro, it's been awhile since I saw you this wiped out."

Tōshirō's only reply was to sigh tiredly and lean into his touch for a moment.

Ichigo smiled and scrubbed at his husband's scalp, wildly tousling his hair. "Eat your food before you fall asleep and suffocate in it, Shiro."

Tōshirō looked at him sideways with mock-narrowed eyes. "Yes, dear," he simpered. He was betrayed by the amused tilt of his lips. This triggered one of their bouts of affectionate play-bickering.

"Oh, don't you 'yes, dear' me."

"Yes, dear."

Ichigo smirked and sat across from Tōshirō. "Brat."

"Excuse you, I'm too old to be a brat now."

"Is that so?"

"Of course." Tōshirō lifted his nose haughtily. "You should know better than anyone else." He raised his eyebrows. He managed to make the expression both cold and highly suggestive.

"But how do I know for sure?"

"Trust me."

"Always."

They looked at each other and shared a grin. They began to eat.

"Well, at least now I know you won't keel over on me. You have enough energy to get all snarky."

"Says the man who called his husband a brat."

"I meant that in the most loving way possible."

"How romantic. You should have Ninth print it on greeting cards. _Dearest Brat, you know I love you, right?_"

"Good idea. I'll talk to Shūhei."

Tōshirō rolled his eyes heavenward. Ichigo looked quite smug. Tōshirō shook his head for a moment then closed his eyes and sighed, savoring the food.

"So, it turned out okay?"

Tōshirō opened his eyes and looked at his husband. Ichigo was endearingly nervous whenever he tried to do something new to make him happy. Decades of marriage hadn't changed that. Tōshirō smiled. "More than okay. Thank you. I needed this. All of this."

Ichigo grinned in a way that somehow combined bashfulness and preening. He proudly ate more of the meal he had made. "Oh! You're supposed to have tomorrow off. Is that still on or are you being cruelly denied some downtime because of noble crabgrass?"

Tōshirō snorted and nearly choked on his food. He cleared his throat and drank some tea. "_Noble crabgrass?_"

"What? You're the one who called them weeds."

Tōshirō held his face in his hands and tried not to laugh. He finally looked up, tired eyes merry. "No, I still have tomorrow off. There isn't much I can do until the newest round of intel comes in."

"Good. I have to go into the office for a couple hours in the morning but Chad can handle the rest of the day. I'm going to spoil you rotten."

Tōshirō rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "You don't have to spoil me. I'll be fine with some sleep."

"You took care of me when I was sick last month. Let me return the favor."

"I'm not sick."

Ichigo pouted. "Dammit Tōshirō, I thought you said you weren't going to fight my protectiveness this time. I even came up with an extra excuse for it. For your sake. I don't need any excuse to spoil you."

Tōshirō sighed tiredly. "Mother hen complex, and fine. Nothing ridiculous, though. I want to stay home and relax. Now cut out the vulnerable puppy eyes act."

Ichigo smiled, quite pleased. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not acting. But I'm glad you're being reasonable."

"Whatever." He yawned, then blinked at his empty bowl. He picked up his teacup and cradled it, enjoying the lingering warmth of the tea. His eyes drooped wearily.

Ichigo's face softened in sympathy. "You're tired."

"Obviously."

"How's the headache?"

Tōshirō hummed. "Much better than it was. Thanks."

"I'm glad." Ichigo pushed back from the table and stood. "Come on. It's getting pretty late. Let's get you to bed. " He held his hand out invitingly.

"I'm not a child to be put to bed."

"Never said you were."

Tōshirō blinked blearily. "What about the dishes?" As a general rule, whichever of them didn't cook was responsible for washing dishes.

Ichigo shrugged. "I'll worry about them later. Come on." He made a beckoning gesture with his fingers.

Tōshirō let out a quiet huff but stood. He swayed slightly. Ichigo took his hand and steadied him. Tōshirō flushed. They set out for the bedroom together. Tōshirō staggered a bit as he followed his husband. Exhaustion and the comfort of a home-cooked meal and their own brand of affectionate banter had relaxed him to the point of feeling heavy with sleepiness. Ichigo silently took his hand again and squeezed it. He tugged his husband along behind him as they padded down the hall.

Tōshirō dropped Ichigo's hand and walked to his side of the bed. He flopped onto it bonelessly and slowly sprawled out on his back, eyes closed in relief. He was glad they didn't bother with a top sheet during the mild, humid nights of midsummer. He felt Ichigo's side of the bed dip beside him. He opened his eyes and turned his head in time to meet Ichigo's lips. He blinked a bit in surprise before he let his eyes flutter shut and allowed Ichigo to continue, enjoying the feel of his husband's warm lips slowly working against his own. Tōshirō looked at Ichigo with heavy-lidded eyes when they broke for air. Ichigo didn't say anything, but his love was blatantly obvious in his face, especially in his eyes. Decades together hadn't dampened the warmth Tōshirō felt whenever Ichigo looked at him that way- as if he was the most precious thing in the world. Tōshirō smiled slightly, his own eyes softening in affection. Ichigo grinned, bent, and softly kissed Tōshirō where his neck met his jaw beneath his right ear. He slowly worked his way down his husband's jawline. Tōshirō hummed and tilted his head to allow better access. Ichigo reached his chin, slid down past his Adam's apple, and nuzzled the hollow of his throat. Ichigo pushed the left side of his yukata aside a bit and lavished attention on the point where Tōshirō's neck met his left shoulder. Tōshirō sighed and reached up to run his right hand through Ichigo's hair. He was drifting in blissful comfort when he felt Ichigo loosen his obi and slide more of the top of his yukata open. He blinked a bit as Ichigo's hand began gently exploring his toned abdomen, causing his muscles to twitch slightly in response to the nearly tickling caresses.

"I'm too tired to really do anything tonight." Damn. His voice slurred slightly with his exhaustion.

Ichigo nipped his shoulder slightly, eliciting a quiet gasp of pleasure from his husband. "I know," he muttered into his skin. He trailed a series of open-mouthed kisses along Tōshirō's collarbone and slid his hand from Tōshirō's abdomen to his waist just above his left hip, then up his ribs until his hand rested over Tōshirō's heart. He drew his head back and shifted to rest more steadily on his own left forearm. He looked at Tōshirō warmly and quirked his lips into a slight smile. "Let me love you until you fall asleep? I'll help you relax and give you sweet dreams. What do you say?" He grinned roguishly and darted down to clamp his lips on Tōshirō's untouched right shoulder.

Tōshirō's breath hitched. "Oh." He shifted, twisting on the bed to tilt his body more toward his husband. Ichigo rewarded him with another languid kiss to his throat while he rubbed his thumb in circles on Tōshirō's chest, then slid his hand around Tōshirō's ribs and into the yukata to stroke his back. Tōshirō purred and closed his eyes. "Okay," he breathed. "Yeah. Sounds good." He could feel Ichigo's lips smile into the skin of his neck.

Time went blurry for Tōshirō. He fell pliant and simply enjoyed Ichigo's hands and lips wandering his upper body. He felt warm and comfortable and loved. His stress seemed a distant and unimportant memory. Ichigo's ministrations slowed as Tōshirō's breathing gradually deepened toward sleep. The last thing Tōshirō remembered before he drifted off was Ichigo gently running his hand through his hair, Ichigo's voice whispering in his ear, his own lips curving into a peaceful smile.

§×§×§

Tōshirō woke slowly. His first coherent thought was one of mild resentment that years of early rising had trained his body to wake up at daybreak even when he didn't need to. He was still tired. He felt so utterly relaxed he didn't want to move. He shifted slightly and opened his eyes. He smiled when he found himself in one of his favorite positions- sprawled out on his side, Ichigo flush against his back, Ichigo's warm breath against the back of his head, Ichigo's arm draped around him, their legs tangled together. He sighed deeply in contentment and drowsily watched the early morning sunlight shift across the room.

He had nearly dozed off again when he felt Ichigo shift and snort. The rhythm of the breathing against his scalp changed. He smirked and stroked one foot against one of Ichigo's calves. "Good morning." His voice was quiet and slurred with sleep.

Ichigo made a sound somewhere between a hum and a groan and buried his face in Tōshirō's neck. "'Mornin'," he muttered.

They quietly laid together and listened to birdsong as the sun brightened their room, occasionally teasing one another with their feet. Eventually, Ichigo sighed and half-rose. "I'll go get breakfast started." He leaned over his husband's shoulder and pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth. Tōshirō hummed agreeably and began to doze again in the gentle sounds of morning. He listened to Ichigo's footsteps recede into the distance.

Just before he fell asleep again, he heard his husband's dismayed voice loudly complain, "_Crap._ I forgot the dishes."

§×§×§

Tōshirō's morning passed in a pleasant blur. He woke for breakfast and sleepily watched Ichigo rush about grabbing things he needed to take to the Eighth Division offices. Ichigo had briefly stopped to kiss him goodbye before he dashed out the door; as sometimes happened, he aimed poorly in his haste and ended up kissing Tōshirō just below his nose. Tōshirō snickered at him as he hurried off. He spent the rest of the morning alternately napping and catching up on some light reading; to wit, he finished one historical crime novel and devoured another. Ichigo returned for a late lunch. Tōshirō quite appreciated his thoughtful purchase of two lovely watermelons. They spent the afternoon relaxing in the garden with books, Tōshirō with his historical crime novels and Ichigo with his fictionalized and quite fantastical account of the life of William Shakespeare. Dinner was a quiet affair in the corner of a little-known restaurant in Junrinan. Their evening at home was spent in a more physically amorous sort of entertainment. They fell asleep together, tired and satisfied.

The next morning passed as most of their mornings did. Tōshirō was an eye of calm in Ichigo's hurricane of a morning rush. They quickly kissed goodbye for the day and hurried across Seireitei to their respective offices.

Tōshirō unlocked the Captain's Office on the Tenth Division's grounds. He put down his things, set some water to boil for tea, and opened the windows to let in the crisp morning air. He only approached his desk when his tea was ready. He blinked in surprise.

His usual stacks of paperwork to be done were sitting in their usual places. Unusually, the clear work area of his desk hosted a fancy envelope and a red origami lotus. He tilted his head curiously. The origami lotus was something Ichigo did sometimes when he left some token of affection for Tōshirō to find. Tōshirō picked up the envelope and turned it about inquisitively. He carefully opened it and slid out a thick card made of a heavy stock of paper. It was very elaborate; several layers of colored, patterned paper framed an exquisite ink drawing of a lotus on water. Tōshirō opened the card and read the contents. His mouth dropped into an O of surprise. Within, in beautifully flowing script, were the words

_Dearest Brat, you know I love you, right?_

Tōshirō dropped the arm that held the card and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. Slowly, his shoulders began to shake with silent laughter.

God, he loved that fool.

§×§×§

§×§×§

§×§×§

Let me know what you think. Con/crit welcome.

version one 9/20/2014


End file.
